


Giving Fate a Helping Hand

by Racethewind_10



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Racethewind_10/pseuds/Racethewind_10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Implied Swan Queen; Killian Jones POV.  Killian/Emma BROTP.  Killian Jones is a secret Swan Queen shipper and thinks hinging your fate on a tattoo is a really stupid thing to do, so he decides to give fate a little push. </p><p>Caution: Depiction of drinking alcohol to unhealthy levels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving Fate a Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Canon what canon? This is set sometime vaguely before that craptastic season 3 finale. It plays fast and loose with the timeline and, well, a lot of stuff. Smee is alive and in Storybrooke and knows how to do tattoos. I'm sure that's legit because sailors have tattoos right? Shhhh. I don’t even watch the show okay? Cut me some slack. 
> 
> Warnings: 1. This fic is from Hook’s POV and I know that might not appeal to a lot of people. 2. The Killian Jones I write is NOT canon compliant. He’s what I wished we could have seen on the show which is less asshole dudebro and more snarky badboy with a good (if unwilling) heart. That said, I’ve left his feelings for Emma intact. If the thought of Hook fantasizing about Emma makes you uncomfortable, this fic is not for you. However, its only in his head.

 

 

Killian Jones is not a good man. He isn’t _quite_ the bastard many have made him out to be, but he’s always been aware of his shortcomings, chief amongst them a healthy interest in saving his own skin and everyone else be damned.  He is also a pirate, and he has let the sails of his fortune be filled by many a wind. He has been moved by the currents of opportunity and greed, by the lure of treasure and adventure, by sentiment, by love, and for centuries, by vengeance and hatred due to the loss of that love.

But now that storm of vengeance has blown itself out and he finds himself adrift in Storybrooke, Maine, in a world with rules that make little sense, unreliable Magic and Emma bloody Swan. Or rather, Emma Swan’s bloody family.   Somehow, despite not having any particular desire to be one of the “good guys” Jones has found his lot thrown in with the most sanctimonious, naive do-gooders he’s ever met, their bullheaded (if ridiculously attractive) daughter, a reformed Evil Queen, and the son Swan and said Evil Queen are awkwardly trying to co-parent. Oh and not to mention Hook’s very own nemesis and the beast’s girlfriend. There are many days when Killian wakes up wondering what imp of the perverse he pissed off in his hundreds of years to get stuck here.

Not that Storybrooke doesn’t have its perks. Swan is easy on the eyes and Killian has entertained many a fantasy of getting the blonde into bed, his vivid imagination supplying him with her lithe, golden body beneath his own, the two of them rocking like the waves, her hair spilled like sea foam over the pillows.

No, Killian Jones is not a good man. But he _has_ been a man in love, truly in love: the kind that warms your heart on the coldest of nights and breathes the very air in your lungs -  or steals it away. He knows what it is to have your entire soul remade into a compass that only points to one person; to be more gladdened by a simple smile or the sparkle in someone’s eye than by all the treasure in the world.  And he knows the agony - worse than any blade can ever inflict - of being without that love.

He sees that agony in The Evil...in Regina’s eyes when she looks at Swan and the boy. It’s the same agony that clouds Swan’s expression when she watches Regina with the Hood, Robin, or whatever that forest rat goes by these days.

They’re idiots, the pair of them, and most of the time Killian wants nothing so much as to lock them in a room together somewhere. The rest of the time…he’s not above admitting he wants to use the chasm between them to his advantage. Emma has feelings for him, he knows. Oh mostly its just irritation, but there is fondness beneath her sneers and she doesn’t move away from him when he stands too close. He could push and eventually she might relent and it would be glorious...but Killian knows it wouldn’t last. Her eyes would lose their sparkle and that forest-green gaze would find its way unerringly back to Regina like a compass needle to Magnetic North.

Jones knows it isn’t nobility that makes his decision but the simple fact he can’t stand the thought of Emma Swan looking at Regina with her whole heart, even when her body is in his arms. There’s folly, and then there’s cruelty and that’s all it would be, to her _and_ to him.

He’s a pirate, not a jailor, and some treasures just aren’t meant to be plundered.

None of that, however, solves the problem of Emma bloody Swan and Regina ‘I’m an idiot’ Mills being the two most stubborn women he’s ever laid eyes on.  

 

* * *

 

He catches her leaning against her patrol car sipping coffee and looking out over the water one afternoon and doesn’t even bother with subtlety.  The look on Swan’s face when he tells her she should just kiss Regina and get it over with is priceless. He wishes he had one of those camera things, so perfect is her impression of being hit over the head. He isn’t surprised. Killian is quite familiar with what it feels like to deny one’s heart and Swan is a classic example.

He does _not_ , however, expect what happens next. If asked, he would have guessed she would bluster and denial. He would have expected her to slug him in the shoulder or tell him to get lost.

Instead, Emma just...deflates. The sharp-edged woman with her tight shoulders and defiant gaze becomes a lost little girl before his eyes and that’s when Killian knows he was only kidding himself.

He never stood a chance.

“She has a Soulmate,” Emma says, and there is a weariness to the words, as if she has worn them out already in her mind, running them over and over and over until they are as frayed as the flag at the top of the Jolly Roger’s mast.

“A True Love? I thought her’s was dead years ago?” He inquires, finding himself - shockingly - genuinely curious. He can’t help it, he’s a sailor and his breed love a good tale.

Swan shrugs and something about her posture suggests that she is curling even tighter inward as if to protect a wound, though she doesn’t actually move except to tighten her hands around the ceramic mug she’s holding.  The smile that twists her rose-colored lips is bitter.

“I guess. Honestly I still can’t keep all this fairy tale crap straight somedays. I mean, I know Daniel was her True Love and yeah he’s dead, but Robin is supposed to be her Soulmate. Something about a tattoo and pixie dust. I don’t know, I overheard Tink talking to Granny about it.”

Killian can’t help the disgusted scoff that he makes.

“A tattoo and some of that fairy glitter? That’s what this is about?” And now he really does want to slap the woman slouching next to him until that fire he enjoys so much flares in her eyes. “What happened to making your own destiny eh? Isn’t that what all this,” he gestures back toward the town broadly, the weak sunlight flashing off his hook. “Has been about?”

But Emma just shrugs one shoulder. “She seems happy, and Hood...Robin is good with Henry. Besides,” and now her eyes narrow at him with suspicion and it would be delicious if it weren’t also damned sad to see the walls he’s worked so hard to get inside slamming back into place. “What do you care? You never liked Regina.”

Hook nods, acknowledging the truth of her words. No, he never liked the Queen, but he has wronged her and debts sit like an ill weight on his shoulders. Its a weight he wouldn’t have thought twice about bearing before Storybrooke and these damned do-gooders.  Killian tries not to think too hard about what that might mean.

“This isn’t about like or dislike, love, it’s just an observation.” He holds her gaze evenly and says nothing more because he knows he’s venturing onto rocky shoals and Swan’s anger is as dangerous as any riptide.

“Yeah well, its not a helpful one, so leave it,” she snaps, turning and striding around to the other side of her cruiser. He steps away as she revs the engine and watches as she drives off faster than strictly necessary, shaking his head.

Killian could let it go, _should_ let it go. Its none of his business if two people want to dash their own hearts apart on their fear but...maybe those damn Charmings really are rubbing off on him.

 

* * *

 

He hasn’t lost his ability to charm ladies whose names _aren’t_ Emma Swan and it doesn’t take all that much convincing to get the Green Fairy - Tink, he reminds himself - to let him buy her a drink in celebration for being free of Neverland.  Turns out the little thing considers herself quite the matchmaker and is only too happy to talk about Regina’s supposed Soulmate. Three drinks in and Hook realizes Tink doesn’t even know for sure that it _is_ Robin Hood, just that Regina’s Soulmate has a tattoo of a lion and was supposedly in some blasted tavern way back in the Enchanted Forest where Regina was going to meet him.  Frankly, Killian couldn’t care less. Destiny is a cruel bitch and a fickle mistress whose boot he has felt on his neck for too much of his life.  Besides, from what he understands, Swan is supposed to end all this curse, destiny, fate nonsense anyway.

He smiles winningly at Tink and pours the fairy another drink, but the pirate’s mind is already at work. He can’t fake pixy dust but a lion tattoo…

It’s been far too long since the Captain said hello to his loyal mate Smee who, if memory serves, was quite the artist...

 

* * *

 

It turns out that when he sets his mind to it, Killian _can_ still charm women named Swan into having a drink with him, even if he has to play dirty to do it. He reminds himself he is doing this for her own good when he sees her expression fall at the sight of Regina, Hood and the small boy enter Granny’s together, laughing and smiling and much closer than they need to be. Jones tries not to be a little bitter when Swan acquiesces to a drink back on the Jolly Roger with alarming ease after that. He tries not to want to shake her into seeing the quick flash of sadness that flickers across Regina’s face when the former Queen catches sight of Killian standing by Emma’s side. After all, this _was_ the plan.

Idiots, the pair of them.

The walk back to the docks is pleasant enough, if quiet, and Killian wishes for just a moment that it were different, that this woman striding along by his side was joining him out of desire for him and not a need to escape the pain she can’t admit she’s feeling. But the stiffness of her spine and the hardness of her eyes dash any chance he has at illusion.  He resists the urge to sigh and feel sorry for himself. He knows, deep down, he has no right.

He feels it anyway. After all, what’s the point in being not good if you can’t indulge yourself?

One drink becomes three, and when he casually mentions how happy Regina looks with Robin, three becomes a lot more. Emma Swan is apparently on a mission to get blindly drunk tonight and the pirate merely sips his rum and lets her. As her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle Jones spares a fleeting thought of kissing her. It would be so easy to offer himself as distraction, let her lose herself with him. She’d take it, he knows, but even as he thinks it he remembers another woman sitting in his cabin drinking his rum. A sad smile twists Killian’s lips.

Milah would gut him like a fish for taking advantage of the blonde trying to numb an ache she doesn’t even understand why she feels. So Jones leans back in his chair and watches Emma Swan drink herself into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

When the glass falls from her nerveless fingers he takes care to ease her boots off and lay her on her side on his bed, easing her left arm out and carefully laying her head on his pillow. Her hair spills like seafoam touched by the setting sun and her full lips are parted and red. She is still now, stiller  than he’s ever seen the restless Savior.

She’s in his bed where he’s always wanted her and suddenly all he feels is pity.

“You’re going soft Hook,” he whispers to himself. And then he digs a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and goes to find Smee.

 

* * *

 

Light is creeping through the windows and Jones shifts in his chair, easing his back against the unforgiving wood. He sips slowly at his flask and watches Swan sleep. His gift has been granted, cleaned and bandaged without her stirring once. Killian’s quite pleased with the result. Its a simple black outline of a lion rampant just below the crook of Emma’s elbow on her left arm. Its large enough to be easily recognizable but not gaudy.

She’s going to be so pissed when she wakes up. Killian finds himself grinning in anticipation.

It’s another hour before she stirs, long enough that the pirate is considering finding a hammock and getting some shuteye himself, but just as he’s thinking of moving, Swan shifts. Once, twice,  and then a low, almost inhuman groan escapes her.

Killian can’t help himself.

“Rise and shine love, its going to be a beautiful day!” he calls, much louder than necessary.

Jones takes a petty pleasure in the whimper she makes before blinking unfocused, bloodshot eyes open and squinting hard in his general direction, clearly unable to do more than that.

“Killian.  What. The. Fuck?” she rasps as she rolls sloppily onto her back. “What did you give me last night?”

Jones raises an eyebrow at the implication before standing to fetch a mug of water. He can’t really be too put out. Its not like he has any honor to impugn, even if he was a perfect gentleman last night.

“I didn’t do a thing, love. ‘Twas all you. I must say Swan, I _am_ impressed. Here,” he grins wryly, helping her sit up and handing her the mug, which she wraps unsteady fingers around and sucks down the water like her life depends on it.   Her clothes are wrinkled and her hair is mussed, she’s pale and looks like she might be sick. She’s still damnably attractive.

Killian hopes Regina can appreciate her.

Something, some instinct Killian likes to ignore but hasn’t actually managed to kill yet,  however, tells the pirate that the former Queen is perhaps the _one_ person in this whole damned town who really _can_ appreciate and understand Swan and it galls him to admit it even as he acknowledges the truth.

“Drink up, lass,” he urges, not unkindly. She obeys, still obviously half asleep, and that’s when she sees the bandage on her arm.

“Killian?” she asks, voice rough and low and gods but doesn’t _that_ just do things to him.

  
She’s waking up quickly though, and the next thing he knows she’s ripped off the bandage to reveal the brand new tattoo, the skin around the simple, stark black lines still flushed and raised. He sees the moment comprehension seeps through her alcohol-soaked brain and anger flares in her eyes. The look she shoots him would be terrifying if she didn’t appear such an utter mess.

“What the _hell_ happened last night Hook?” She snarls and he can’t help it. He laughs. He may be doing the right thing, but he’s always going to be drawn to this woman, _especially_ her anger. Regina’s going to have her hands full.

Still, a good pirate always knows when to beat a strategic retreat and now is his cue, before Swan gets enough motor control back to do some real damage.

“You can thank me later, love. Consider it a gift to you and the Queen.”

“Regina? Hook, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I can’t get you any pixie dust, so this will have to do. Go get your woman, Swan.”

And with a wink he hopes is jaunty and not bitter, he makes his exist.

The hollow thud of a pewter mug slamming into wood follows him up the hatch.

 

* * *

 

Discretion being the better part of valor, Jones keeps himself scarce for a while after that and Emma seems bound and determined to return the favor because he doesn’t see so much as a flash of blonde hair for weeks. It means he never learns how Regina finds out about the tattoo or how events unfold after.

He _does_ know it takes at least a month because that’s how long it takes for the Hood to stop smiling.  Jones can’t help but be rather pleased with that development. The thief is far too smug for his own good and the only smugness Killian can tolerate is his own.

Jones also knows the exact moment Emma and Regina finally act on their desire - some weeks later - because the result knocks out power to half the town and sends a pulse of magic through the air that races up his skin like electricity before passing on, out to sea. Standing on the bridge of his ship, Killian raises his flask in silent salute.

Its not until a few weeks  after _that_   incident, however, that any last shred of doubt he might have had is vanquished.

He’s walking by the park, stretching his legs on land because he’s restless and the Jolly Roger holds too much temptation to simply set sail and not look back, when he sees them. Its childish but he ducks behind a tree so he isn’t seen because Regina is in Emma’s arms and if they’re going to kiss then he _definitely_ needs to see this. After all, he’s owed, he thinks.

But they aren’t kissing. They’re just standing, arms wrapped around each other and holding on tightly, as if they’re both afraid something might pull them apart. Its the way Regina is resting her head on Emma’s shoulder though, and the way the blonde has her eyes closed, cheek pressed against a crown of dark hair, that makes something inside him twist.  They look at peace. For all the strength with which they cling to each other, their faces are soft.

He’s never seen either Swan or the Queen like this; never seen them so unguarded with all their masks gone and their armor laid aside.

Regina shifts then, opening her eyes to look at Emma and Killian Jones, who is not a good man, feels shame steal through him, hot and thick as a flame.

The expression on Regina’s face is raw and open and so utterly, _blindingly_ happy. It transforms her into something, some _one_ he has never seen and Emma is looking back at her like Regina is the only thing that matters in this world. He has no right to this moment, he understands; no right to witness what is happening between these two women. It doesn’t matter that all they’re doing is standing close and looking at each other, this isn’t meant for anyone to witness.

Killian turns without a backward glance and slips away as silently as possible. He makes the journey back to his safe harbor, his ship, without really paying attention to where his feet land. His mind and heart are too occupied by what he has seen and as his boot heels sound on the familiar wood of his ship, the pirate Captain can’t help but feel a sense of loss that has nothing to do with Emma Swan, and everything to do with another woman he once loved, hundreds of years ago. Milah is gone from him forever and yet as he stares out over these foreign gray waters, her absence doesn’t bring the same taste of anger and bitterness that it once did. Emma Swan was never his to love, but perhaps, if The Evil Queen can find her Happy Ending with the Savior, then someday there might be hope for a man like him.

A man who is not good but who might be. _Someday_.  

 

He really needs to get away from those damn Charmings…

 

Fin

 


End file.
